Spot the Difference
by Gillyness
Summary: Harry is having a weird day. Features Oblivious!Ron, Government!Hermione, Supermodel!Snape, and a Ginny who seems to understand everything. Well, it's ALMOST funny . . .


When Harry woke up, he was expecting a very average day ahead of him. We all know that Harry is wrong. If it were to be a very average day, then why would this be written by me, I ask you?  
  
Anyway, Harry was immediately proven wrong when he drew back the curtains of his four-poster bed. Ron was sitting on the floor, unwrapping what appeared to be a big ole' bang of Christmas presents. Harry wondered if there was something wrong with his eyes, ignoring the fact that he had not yet put on his glasses. He put them on, and then looked again. Nothing changed.  
  
"Um, Ron? What are those?"  
  
"Turnips!"  
  
Harry now had to wonder at the state of his ears. "What?"  
  
"They're presents! What did you expect?"  
  
(AN: Any one who gets that is a very careful reader. That's all I'm saying.)  
  
Harry frowned. "But you just said-"  
  
"Look, you've got some too!"  
  
Harry looked down to see that, indeed, there was an equally large pile of presents at the foot of his bed. He leaned down cautiously, wondering if they weren't gags from Fred and George. But Ron seemed to be surviving the opening of his, so Harry carefully tore open a lumpy package wrapped in completed crosswords.  
  
Inside was a hefty lump of toffee. "Um, Ron? Who are these from?"  
  
"Oh, my mum sent them."  
  
Harry poked at the toffee with a stick that had appeared conveniently out of nowhere, as sticks tend to do. "Why? It's October!"  
  
"Eh, she figured that she'll probably die or suffer something horrible by the end of the books so she figures that she might as well send our gifts now."  
  
Harry nodded, not really understanding. But he opened the next package anyway and pulled out . . .  
  
"A DRESS?!?!?!"  
  
Ron glanced over at Harry's discovery. "Oh, Harry, that's nice. She sent you another jumper."  
  
"This isn't a jumper, it's a DRESS!"  
  
"No, it's a jumper. Don't you listen?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes and pulling a Weasley sweater out of his package. Harry blinked.  
  
"YOU didn't get a dress! Why did *I* have to get the dress? Why ME? Don't I suffer enough? First and evil Dark Lord bent on destroying my existence, and now, a dress!"  
  
"No, no, see, *I* got a SWEATER. YOU got a jumper."  
  
Harry frowned. "Sweater?"  
  
Suddenly, Ginny burst in, looking very pale. "The books have been Americanized!" she shrieked. "Everybody RUUUUUUUN!"  
  
And with that, she ran back out. Harry and Ron blinked  
  
"Hey, why are we the only ones here?" Harry wondered (wow, for the forth time today) aloud. "I mean, what happened to Neville and Seamus and Dean?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "On vacation, I expect."  
  
"Vacation?"  
  
"Yeah, over Christmas, you know."  
  
"It's October!"  
  
"No, it's Christmas! Why would there be presents if there wasn't?"  
  
"But . . . you said . . . about your mum . . . and dying by the end of the books . . ."  
  
Ron frowned. "Books?" He shook his head sympathetically. "I think you're very confused, Harry."  
  
Harry blinked.  
  
The door creaked open, and Hermione peaked in. "Did anyone see Ginny in here?"  
  
"Yeah, she just ran out, raving on about 'the books', or something."  
  
"Thanks!" she said, shutting the door. Her footsteps could be heard down the stairs.  
  
"Happy Christmas!" Ron shouted after her.  
  
*  
  
The first thing Harry noticed about the Great Hall is that many people were missing. Besides Hermione, Ginny, and the rest of the fifth year Gryffindor boys, Harry saw that Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Professor Snape, and Colin and Dennis Creevy were strangely absent. Harry and Ron sat down at the table next to Fred and George. The twins were stooped over like cute little hunchbacks, snickering.  
  
"Happy Christmas!" Ron greeted.  
  
Harry let his head drop into his plate of scrambled eggs. "This day isn't starting out very well."  
  
"Could be worse," Fred said in a rather creepy voice.  
  
"How??"  
  
George grinned wickedly. "Could be raining."  
  
Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling. "It IS raining."  
  
Fred and George shrugged.  
  
Ron was examining his schedule. "Ooh, we have Divination first. C'mon, we want to get up there before she starts."  
  
Harry was now very confused. Since when did Ron like Divination? Of course, Ron obviously wasn't behaving very normal today. Scratch that, thought Harry, as he looked up at the staff table. No one was behaving normal at all.  
  
Dumbledore was smiling and holding a pair of big woolen socks. McGonagall was drinking shots of gin very rapidly. Trelawney was doing vocal exercises.  
  
"Come ON, Harry! Divination is STARTING soon! We need to HURRY!"  
  
The long walk up the North Tower proved to be very interesting. At one point they were almost killed as Ginny ran past them screeching "The Shippers! The Shippers are COMING! AIIIEEEEE!!!" and then again as Hermione raced by almost immediately afterwards, apparently chasing Ginny. Then came Sir Cadogan's painting, in which the mad old knight was having tea with the Fat Lady and her friend Violet.  
  
Up the rope ladder and into the musty classroom. Ron sat at the table next to Pavarti and Lavender, and Harry followed. The girls to their left were humming in sync, and Ron joined in, rocking side to side with the tune.  
  
The trap door swung upwards, and the four Gryffindors swung their heads to watch what turned out to be Neville, Dean and Seamus. The three boys clomped across the floor and sat at a table at the front of the class.  
  
"Happy Christmas!" said Ron.  
  
Harry now felt completely put of it. "Wait. Where were you guys during breakfast? Where were you at all this morning? What's going on?"  
  
Ginny's head popped up from the trap door. "Plot hole! PLOT HOLE!!!"  
  
Everyone continued as normal, if you can count rocking and humming normal. Everyone was humming in perfect synchronization, except for Seamus, whose tune seemed to be stumbling around a bit. The rest ceased their humming and rocking abruptly.  
  
"Sheesh, get with the rhythm, Shamus."  
  
"Yeah, Shamus, we'll never be the best if you can't hold the tune."  
  
Harry cut them off. "Wait, wait, wait. Best at what? And why do you keep calling him Shamus?"  
  
Below, they could hear Ginny shriek "It's Americanization! Americanization, I tell you!"  
  
"Because that's his name!" Ron explained. "Why wouldn't we call him that?"  
  
Harry opened his mouth to respond, closed it, opened it again, and then slumped back into his chair, giving up. He was just about through with this day. Unfortunately, the day wasn't near just about through with him.  
  
It was at that moment that Professor Trelawney climbed up through the trap door. "Good day, class," she sang.  
  
"Good day, Professor Trelawney," the class chorused. Professor Trelawney waved her hands to stop them.  
  
"No, no, that's not right at all! You have to breathe from your STOMACH, not your chest! Breathe! Now! Let's try it again."  
  
"Good day, Professor Trelawney!"  
  
"Perfect! Lavender has the pitch just right, everyone follow her next time! Remember to enunciate your vowels properly! Now, lets start on some voice exercises! Along with me, class! Ah!"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah-Ah-AH-Ah-ah-ah-ahhh!" "Oh!"  
  
"Oh-oh-oh-Oh-OH-Oh-oh-oh-ohhh!" "E!"  
  
"E-e-e-e-E-e-e-e-eee!" "Ooh!"  
  
"Ooh-ooh-ooh-Ooh-OOH-Ooh-ooh-ooh-oohhh!"  
  
Harry sat stunned as they did their 'ah's and 'oh's. What was going on? Why were they singing? And why so badly?  
  
"And ah!"  
  
"Ah-ah-ah-Ah-AH-Ah-ah-ah-ahhh!"  
  
"Marvelous! Okay, now lets try the song we learned yesterday! I trust you've all been practicing?'  
  
The whole class hummed yes.  
  
"Great! Now ah one, ah two, ah one two three four!"  
  
And they sang.  
  
"Good morning to you! Good morning to you!  
  
We're all in our places With bright shiny faces,  
  
Oh what a nice way To start a new day!"  
  
Harry clutched his ears and slid down in his seat. What demons had been released from hell to create this awful sound? He had no idea what was wrong with the school today, and up until now, it hadn't been so awful, but this . . . this was just too much.  
  
At that moment, a very tipsy Professor McGonnagal popped up through the trap door and passed out on the floorboards, her shoeless feet hanging over the edge. In and instant Professor Trelawney was hoisting her up with unnatural strength.  
  
"I'll have to carry Minerva down to the hospital wing," she told the class.  
  
Harry smiled up at the heavens.  
  
"Practice while I'm away!"  
  
And the demons were at the gates once more.  
  
*  
  
When the pain was finally over, Harry followed Ron out of the classroom and down the hall. As they passed a large group of people, Harry stopped dead. He turned slowly.  
  
There was Snape.  
  
In the center of the crowd.  
  
With blond hair.  
  
The professor flipped his now shining and vibrant golden hair and jutted one of his hips out. "I made myself platinum. I was born a dirty bond."  
  
Harry shuddered and ran off to catch up with Ron, who was just entering the Transfiguration classroom. The to boys slid into a seat next to some random extras placed in the scene merely to hide the fact that Harry's class is tiny as heck, especially without Hermione. "Happy Christmas!"  
  
They sat there, wondering who was going to teach the class while McGonnagal was visiting the land of hangovers. They had sat wondering for a great long time when the door opened and a girl they had never seen before.  
  
Harry was almost sure she was a Veela, with her waist-length wavy strawberry blond hair and her eyes blue as they come and soft, clear skin and clean, white teeth. She walked up to the front of the room (with her long thin perfect legs) and turned to the class.  
  
"Hi! My name is Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters, and I'm your substitute Transfiguration teacher!"  
  
For reasons unknown, all of the males in the vicinity minus Harry, who was feeling very lost now, stared with wide eyes and slack jaws at the girl, and all of the females glared menacingly at her. Harry, however, just leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, preparing himself for whatever spiral this day was about to throw at him.  
  
It came as Ginny Wealsey who, once again ('I'm sensing a pattern,' thought Harry), burst into the room at a strangely coincidental time. She pointed a finger at Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters and screamed "Mary Sue! She's a MARY SUE! Nobody trust her! Don't succumb to her evil ways!"  
  
Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters' eyebrows raised in an annoyingly adorable fashion and she said, in her soft, pretty voice, "Whatever do you mean? My name is Cassandra Amy Beth G-"  
  
Ginny cut her off. "No! No, you're a Mary Sue, don't try to deny it! You're too perfect! You're a WRITING DEFECT!"  
  
Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters lowered her gaze to down, staring shamefully at the floor. "It's not my fault that I'm perfect. Do you think I mean to be the smartest person in every class I've ever taken, so that I graduated early and was immediately hired as an Auror? Or that Voldemort has been after me since I was a baby because of my amazing magical powers? Or that every boy in the school wants to date me, though I would only fall in love with someone good and true, most likely the hero of the story? Do you?"  
  
But Ginny wasn't convinced. "Don't you see? Don't you see how perfect she is? It's INHUMAN. It's not possible for a normal person too be this flawless! Don't give in to her powers! Don't give in!"  
  
Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters' eyes grew very cold. "So that's the way it has to be, huh? Well, we'll just see who's the smart one after we're through with you. GARY STU! COME!"  
  
The door burst open and Harry opened is eyes to watch a boy bound in. He had dark floppy brown hair, almost black, and soft, gray eyes, and rather pronounced cheekbones. All of the girls in the room sighed lovingly and cupped their hands over their cheeks. All of the boys (except Harry, who was now crawling under his desk) glared at him.  
  
The boy smiled at Cassandra Amy Beth Grace Waters and said "Yes, Mary Sue?"  
  
"Aha! So you admit it!" Ginny shrieked. Mary Sue and Gary Stu turned towards Ginny, their eyes stony cold. Mary Sue pointed at the young girl.  
  
"Get her!"  
  
But Ginny was too quick for them. She whipped a piece of paper out of her robes and held it before the advancing perfections.  
  
"NOOOO!" cried Gary Stu. "Not an original plot line! ARGH!"  
  
And with that, Mary Sue and Gary Stu began to melt. As their robes pooled around them, they raised their heads to the heavens. "Ohhhhh! You cursed brat! Look what you've done! We're melting! Melting! Oh, what a fanfic! What a fanfic!" they screeched, growing shorter and shorter, until there was nothing left at all.  
  
"You're telling me!" Ginny exclaimed, slipping the piece of paper back up her sleeve and running out the door, just as the bell rang. As the rest of the class gathered their stuff and filed out of the classroom, Harry crawled out from under his desk, now absolutely frightened out of his wits.  
  
*  
  
Harry caught up with Ron, who was wishing Snape Happy Christmas. Snape was now applying lipstick. He capped the lipstick and tossed his blond hair.  
  
"Maybe she's born with it," he said, trying to make his voice soft and fluttery.  
  
"Maybe it's Maybelline," sang three voices from behind Snape, who was now trying to model walk, swiveling his hips. Harry peered around Snape's hips to see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, all wearing tight jeans and tank tops. Crabbe and Goyle looked like denim-clad cheese balls.  
  
Harry clapped his hands over his eyes and sprinted blindly to catch up with Ron, trying to shake the memory from his head. He crashed into the tall redhead, who had haulted abruptly. Harry opened his eyes. A huge crowd was moving swiftly towards them.  
  
"Werewolf!" someone shouted.  
  
"Werewolf?" Harry asked.  
  
"There. There wolf," said George, pointing at the front of the crowd, where Professor Lupin was running. Behind him, hordes of teenaged girls were following him, screaming their heads off.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Professor Lupin!" Ron shouted as the frantic man sped past them.  
  
"Remus! Remus!" the girls shouted.  
  
"What the heck was that?"  
  
Ginny came speeding past the opposite direction. "Fan girls!" she yelled, answering Harry. Then she dove into an empty classroom, seconds before Hermione came skidding to a halt in front of them, looking around, and continuing down the corridor.  
  
Harry shook his head (he had by now given up trying to understand) and opened the door that Ginny had ran through.  
  
"Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"  
  
A large, screaming crowd pumped their fists at Harry as he walked onto a large stage.  
  
"No, Harry!" corrected Ron, who had followed him in.  
  
"Harry! Harry! Harry!" the crowd bellowed, still pumping their fists.  
  
Harry paled.  
  
He was "saved" when a man walked onto the stage, basking in the glorious applause. He grabbed Harry by the shoulders, steered him into a comfy chair on the stage, and sat down beside him.  
  
"Hi, Harry," said the man.  
  
"Um . . . hi?"  
  
"So, tell us a little bit about yourself."  
  
"What?"  
  
"How do you feel about being on our show?"  
  
"A bit confused, really."  
  
The man grinned. "Fabulous! Now. Tell us. Who do you have a crush on?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Come on now, don't be shy."  
  
"Um . . . Cho, I guess."  
  
"Have you felt this way for a long time?"  
  
Harry was starting to get scared. What was wrong with these people? "Yeah, sure."  
  
"Listening backstage is none other than your long time infatuated follower, Ginny Weasley!"  
  
Harry turns to see Ginny being dragged onstage by some meek looking backstage men.  
  
"Hi Ginny!" says Ron, who is still there on stage.  
  
Ginny struggles violently, and managed to ram her elbows into the backstage men's noses, but that hold on tightly. "Ron! Harry! Run for your lives! Run, I say!"  
  
The man smiled. "Ginny, please, sit down."  
  
"NO! I know what this is! It's an unnecessary crossover! Never trust them!"  
  
"That's nice. So, backstage you heard Harry's little confession, am I right?"  
  
"What? Oh, sure yeah. He likes Cho. That's just fine. Now LET ME GO!"  
  
"Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!" screamed the crowd.  
  
"Harry!" Ron insisted.  
  
"Harry! Harry! Harry!"  
  
The man (Jerry, presumably) ignored them. "Let's bring out Cho!"  
  
Cho bubbled out from backstage, giggling uncontrollably. She giggled in Harry's direction, and then sat down in yet another unoccupied chair.  
  
"So, Cho, how do you feel about Ginny's anger towards you?"  
  
"Well, Jerry," giggle, giggle, "guess I feel like she's being rude." She reached over, grabbed Harry and dragged him painfully over the armrest of his chair and towards her. "I mean, Harry's mine!"  
  
"I-I am?" Harry asked faintly, rubbing his ribs.  
  
"So I just think she should just go away."  
  
"Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"  
  
"No, it's Harry!" yelled Ron.  
  
Ginny snorted. "What does it look like I'm trying to do?" she asked as she wriggled against the poor backstage men (who shall now be referred to as Artie and Stan).  
  
"But there's something that has not yet come attention to Harry. Cho," (Dum dum dum dum dum dum duuuuum) "is transsexual!"  
  
Even Ron gasped.  
  
"No, actually, no I'm not," said Cho calmly.  
  
"Oh," said Jerry, sounding rather embarrassed. "Okay, then. I guess you can go. Hey, Stan! Tell the manager we're using that chat room beaver sex story!"  
  
Everyone stopped, shuddered at the possibilities, and then ran backstage, where they found themselves back in the corridor.  
  
"Well, bye, Harry!" giggled Cho. And with that she bubbled and bounced off.  
  
Ginny, who was still had Artie and Stan attached to her, ran off.  
  
And Harry knew it was time to go to Potions.  
  
*  
  
A disco ball hung from the ceiling of the dungeon. A long red-carpeted platform was set up down the center of the classroom. Chartreuse curtains hung at the back of the platform. All of the Slytherins were gathered at one side of the platform, the Gryffindors at the other. Music was playing from some unknown location. It was all very scary.  
  
Harry numbly followed Ron to one side of the platform. Just as they reached the edge of it, the lights went down and a single spotlight came up on the chartreuse curtain. The music grew louder, and Snape flung the curtains back.  
  
He was wearing a skimpy pink dress and a feathery ornament in his blond hair. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he walked down the platform. As he passed, Harry caught a good view of his very hairy legs.  
  
Cameras appeared conveniently in the hands of the student bordering the platform, and Snape swiveled around on the edge of the red carpet and struck a pose. Camera clicks to rival Collin Creevy filled the air.  
  
The chartreuse curtains were flung open and Ginny burst onto the platform. "Oh my god!" she cried, obviously reaching her emotional breaking point. "It's a cliché of a cliché! This tops all! Do you have any idea how many "humor" fics have featured Snape as a cross dressing model? This is the ultimate low!"  
  
I repetitive thumping was heard above that only Ginny recognized as the sound of a fanfic author's head colliding multiple times with her keyboard.  
  
It may have continued if Hermione had not barged into the Potions classroom at that very second. With the rest of the classroom occupied with Snape (who was now waggling his hips up and down the platform), Harry was the only one who saw Hermione block the doorway to prevent Ginny's escape. Harry noted wit interest that Hermione was no longer wearing her school uniform, but a sharply creased black tuxedo and a pair of dark sunglasses.  
  
She pulled a gun out of her inner pocket and held in one hand, pointing at Ginny. With her other hand she whipped a pair of handcuffs out and took a step towards the redhead. Ginny reluctantly held out her wrists, and with one swift move Hermione had clamped the handcuffs over them. Harry watched this all with mild interest for he had reached the final stage. No surprise was left in his body.  
  
Hermione glanced around the room and met Harry's eyes. Or, at least, he thought so, but the dark shades made it hard to tell where her eyes were looking. She sighed and shook her head. "We've been trying to catch this one for a while now. Gave us a lot of trouble."  
  
Harry blinked. "Where are you taking her?"  
  
"Let's just say . . . somewhere where she can put her knowledge good use. You'd be best just to forget this ever happened."  
  
"But what about Ron?"  
  
Hermione looked over at Ron, who was leaning over the edge of the platform and screaming for Snape to sign his boxers. "I don't think he will cause a problem."  
  
She steering the grumbling Ginny towards the door. "Like I said, just forget this ever happened." She started to turn, then stopped. "Oh, and . . . have a nice day."  
  
She turned and pushed Ginny out the door.  
  
Harry turned back to watch Snape and reflect on the day. Ron was a moron. Ginny was crazy. Fred and George were hunchbacks from 'Young Frankenstein'. Trelawney was a chorus teacher. Remus was being pursued by rabid teenage girls. Snape was a cross-dressing model. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were his backup singers. Hermione was a Government agent. And Harry finally understood why.  
  
He, Harry Potter, had finally gone insane.  
  
So why was he so content with it?  
  
Sighing, Harry sat on the floor and watched as Snape signed Ron's, Dean's and Seamus' (*Shamus'* Harry thought) boxers. His eyelids began to droop. He *had* woken up very early. And it had been such a long day . . .  
  
*GASP!!!*  
  
Harry Potter sat up, his heart pounding like an African drum. He looked around him, his eyes wide. No, he was not in the Potions classroom, watching Snape model. He was safe, in his foor-poster bed. Snape was not a cross dresser. Hermione did not work for the Government. Trelawny didn't sing. And Crabbe and Goyle were *not* wearing tight tank tops. He was safe.  
  
Harry sighed and sank back into his pillow, glad that it had all been a dream.  
  
And somewhere far away, Ginny screamed, "Overused ending!"  
  
*  
  
Ah, it's finally over. At thirteen pages! *does the long fic dance*  
  
I'm not quite sure why I wrote this. I started it months ago, possibly last year. But you don't care.  
  
I was thinking of putting Ginny in the land of ff.net, but that was stretching it, even for me.  
  
Okay. Um, I'll need a disclaimer. Hoo boy.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, Young Frankenstein, the good morning song, Dirty Blond, Mary Sue, Gary Stu, original plot lines (none of those here, no sir), Maybelline products, Jerry Springer, cross dressing Snape (it HAS been done before, damnit!), Government agents, or that ending (aka "It was all a dream!"). All I own is this screwy plot line. Don't take it. I'm saying this for your benefit, not mine.  
  
Because you are reading this leads me to believe that you read the entire thing. Either that or you made it halfway and scrolled down to flame me for being an idiot. Oh well. Either way, review.  
  
And that's a wrap. 


End file.
